Untitled
by Wah-Keetcha
Summary: “Anyway, it’s something I don’t tolerate, the abuse of women or children. It’s just something that gets under my skin ya know?”


Title: Untitled

Rating: PG-13  
Feedback: appreciated

Summary: "Anyway, it's something I don't tolerate, the abuse of women or children. It's just something that gets under my skin ya know?"

Author Note: Story was inspired –unbelievably- by a song performed by Christian Kane and his band Kane called 'Mary can you come outside' in which during the intro he says 'so I went and politely knocked on the door and politely beat the shit out of him' good song, can be found on Youtube.

Untitled because I couldn't think of one. Go figure!

* * *

Eliot's eyes narrow as he tracks the businessman, distracted and playing with his fancy phone as he walks. Tall and of an average build Eliot can see what drew the European Grifter to him. He could have been considered handsome in his three piece suite, flaunting his money and snagging women with a dashing smile and flowing words.

But Eliot knows better.

He's seen men like him before, knows what damage their capable of.

Wordlessly the Hitter falls in behind the businessman keeping step exactly twelve paces behind and slightly to the left of the preoccupied man, his face drawn into a stern scowl. They move through the narrow and uneven streets of the North End, smells of authentic Italian food waft through the rapidly cooling Boston air. The populated area of the North End falls behind as Eliot continues to follow, his boots striking the cobblestones soundlessly. The man in front of him _finally_ seems to pick up on the fact that there's someone behind him.

He flicks his head to the side and stops in his tracks.

Eliot also stops his expression grim as he glares at the man, finding the man's nervousness exposed by the twitch of a facial muscle, the fumble of his words as he attempts to draw strength for _something_.

"Who are you?" he snaps, falling into what Eliot would assume is his 'boardroom voice', a bellow that would intimidate those below him on a business scale. Intimidate a woman.

Intimidate Sophie.

"I am armed and I will call the police." There's a tremble there, just a hint of fear in his voice as Eliot approaches nearly silent. Behind them the sounds of plates and conversation seems dull and muted and the shadows here seem darker, thicker and _deadlier_.

"What do you want from me? My wallet? My watch?" Eliot rolls his eyes and narrows his eyes as the man quickly goes from confident to bribing, offering his would be assailant something. Nice ploy, probably would have worked on those common street thugs looking for an easy steal, maybe a wallet or watch, something easily pawned or sold.

Except Eliot's not looking for material items, his reasons are personal and physical.

"You know a Jane Monroe?" Eliot clips, voice rough and edged with danger. Sharp blue eyes watch the man flinch and flick down to his bruised knuckles, the same knuckles that left the Grifter's cheek so badly bruised and tender.

"Ya see, she's a friend of mine." Eliot continues coolly and takes another step, marking how the man's eyes glance around desperately for _someone_ to call out too, _someone_ to save him. The suddenly his expression changes, his own eyes narrow and _anger_ is suddenly present, cheeks flushing as he spits and snarls.

"She's a whore of a woman, flaunting and fake! A lying bitch, sucking you dry of money." Eliot's expression doesn't change and if the man was going for shock value it failed. He takes another step and growls low in his throat. The man quickly makes to turn away and run, thinking that's the only way to escape but within minutes he's thrown against the old, moldy brick facing of a building, Eliot's strong hand clutched around his throat.

"No matter what a woman _is_, it doesn't give you the right to _beat_ or _assault_ one. Didn't your daddy ever teach you to respect women, not use them for your personal punching bag?" Eliot snarls, not debating what the man just said about Sophie, instead focusing on the _reason_ why he's here. The man under his grasp gasps and sputters, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles to take in air.

"You dealt her a bad blow; I'm here to take it out of your hide." Eliot clarifies and the man's eyes widen. With a snarl the Hitter brings his fist up and rams it into the other's face, knuckles connecting solidly with bone. His victim grunts in pain as his head snaps back, slamming into the wall behind him. Eliot releases the hold on his throat and steps back, watching in satisfaction as the other writhers in pain, clutching at his eye.

"So what? I know your face now you son ova bitch!" he shouts, raspy voice echoing off the dingy walls of the narrow walkway. Eliot's eyes fly around, searching for anyone who might have been drawn to the sound of a struggle.

No one.

Eliot curls back his upper lip, revealing a wolfish snarl.

"You may know my face, but I change my appearance, become anyone I want. You can't." Realization dawns on the other man as he backs away, sliding along the cobblestones as Eliot advances, his words pleading and desperate.

"Stop! It was one time!" he states, finally gaining his feet but unknowingly backed himself into a corner, pinned against a dumpster and the wall. Eliot takes his time advancing, his knuckles throbbing idly.

"That's one time too many." Eliot states and it about to swing out again when the businessman quickly moves, dodging the blow in a desperate duck and shimmy. Eliot's momentum carries his fist into the metal of the dumpster, a dent forming. Something gives in his hand and wrist, the shots of pain racing up his entire arm.

Now he's _really_ pissed.

The business man tries to gain his feet again but the ground in the back ally's of Boston –so close to the warf- are slippery for shoes meant for the interior of buildings. Eliot grabs him again but quickly has to move back as the baton sweeps at his side. Eliot cocks and eyebrow at this and quickly decides that the bleeding and _scared_ man before him isn't trained to use such a weapon effectively.

"Nice toy." He snarks, growling as he advances. The man lashes out with the aluminum baton, one blow managing to catch Eliot in the side but without breaking stride he brings his arm down, pilling the baton to his hip before snaking his foot out and landing a wicked blow with the toe of his boot to the man's privates. With a gasping groan the victim falls back, clutching at himself and curling into a ball, the baton still in Eliot's possession. Glancing down at the weapon Eliot nods to himself and quickly folds it up and sticks it in his back pocket before kneeling down beside the now sobbing man. With short hair Eliot's unable to pull his head up so he merely grabs the drenched and dirty silken tie, pulling on it until the man is forced to gasp.

"Now, I want you to listen to me boy. If you _ever_ come near Ms. Monroe again, I will be back and next time you won't get away with a bruised ball sack and some bruises. Next time, I'll break your teeth, your jaw and half the other bones in your miserable body. Understand?" Eliot growls menacingly, making sure to watch the other's fear filled eyes as the man nods quickly, his mouth open and gasping. With a sadistic smirk Eliot pats the side of the man's face, making sure to hit the rapidly growing bruise before releasing the tie and standing.

"Oh, and I forgot." Without warning Eliot's wooden heel comes down in the long fingers of the abusive businessman. A sharp crunch, punctuated with the fierce howl of the one on the ground.

"Just so you remember this." Eliot snarls and turns away, his steps echoing off the walls as shouts and the sound of sirens begin to approach. Ducking around the corner Eliot quickly removes the button down he'd been wearing and ties back his hair, making sure to push on his glasses before falling into step with the evening foot traffic, his expression neutral as he moves quickly back towards Nathan's just a few blocks away on the waterfront.

Nate's apartment is dark and quiet when Eliot arrived back, his boot heels scraping against the polished floorboards as he moves into the kitchen. His hand and wrist have already begun to swell and his fingers tingle slightly when he tries to move them. Nate's freezer is always stocked with ice packs of various sizes and it doesn't take Eliot long to grab two and wrap them in a dish towel. Glancing up at the wall clock he nods to himself, figuring the others had gone down to the bar for a bite to eat, leaving the apartment silent and vacant.

Or so he thought.

Tensing at the sound of bare feet on the metal steps leading to the upstairs Eliot turns, finding Sophie staring back at him, her expression shocked and weary and he turns away heading for the dining table. The bruising on the woman's face makes Eliot's stomach twist into knots, the sickly purple and black of violence contrasting with her flawless skin.

"What did you do Eliot?" she asks, voice trembling slightly and for a moment the long haired man is taken aback at her worry for the _bastard_ who hit her. Eliot shakes his head and lowers himself down into one of the chairs, arranging the icepacks to cover the swelling areas of his hand. He doesn't respond for a long time and keeps his eyes averted, taking in the landscape of the Harbor.

"I did what needed to be done." He states stonily as the European Grifter eases herself into the chair across from him, her expression schooled into a cool neutral but her eyes show the concern and fear she's really feeling.

"Y-you didn't…" she trails off, sniffling at the idea but Eliot quickly gives a chuckle and shakes his head, removing the ice from his wrist and hand before prodding at the tender swelling, wincing at the shift of small bones in his hand.

"Kill him? No. Just gave him a warning he'll _never_ forget." Eliot growls and flinches away, his arm jerking as Sophie wraps her long, slender fingers around his uninjured hand. The Hitter's skin is rough and calloused around the knuckles, his fingers beginning to show signs or arthritis but the strength in them is unmistakable.

"Thank you Eliot." Sophie breathes, a tear sliding down her swollen cheek to drop off her chin. Eliot's at a loss for words, unsure of how to react around the emotional Grifter. It's true he doesn't fully trust her still and against the others protests he still holds her at arms length, weary of another deception but there are some things that _shouldn't ever happen_.

"No thanks needed. What happened to you should never happen to any woman. Men like him… shouldn't be allowed to walk around without payback for what they do." He states stonily and places the packs back on his hand.

Sophie watches the man in front of her, watching as he tries to push away his anger but the emotion still rolling hot and ready beneath the surface, his eyes hard edged and ready for a fight. She licks her lips and pats his hand once, drawing the cold gaze back to her.

"This has happened before… to someone you know?" she starts and the slightest narrowing of those sharp eyes tells her she's on the right track. Eliot seems about ready to protest but she quickly cuts him off, continuing.

"That's why you can't stand it when women cry. You've seen this all before…" she trails off as Eliot's expression hardens and he pulls his hand away sharply, shoulders tensed and agitation expressed in his movements. Sophie knows Eliot detests how easily she can read him, see _through_ the exterior to his inner motives.

She understands him and he _hates_ it.

"No man should ever raise a hand to a woman, ever." He snarls, swallowing convulsively as he struggles to keep the rage out of his voice, not wanting to give Sophie anything else to analyze, to find out.

"Who was it?" she presses, knowing the Hitter is dangerously close to shutting down and pushing her away but _needing_ to know. Of course she knows she's not the only victim of a man's abusive hands but she just needs to _know_ _why _the Hitter took it upon himself to deal out retribution for her bruises. Why, after everything she'd done to him back in California due to her selfish greed, why he would risk himself for her. Eliot is silent for a long time, his eyes locked on something out in Boston Harbor, eyebrows drawn together in a narrow V. Sophie wait patiently, not wanting to push the hitter any further, wishing she just knew _more_ about him. When it seems like the man isn't about to speak Sophie nods to herself and prepares to leave him sitting at the table, when his rough voice draws her back into her seat.

"It was my mother." His eyes are still glued on something in the Harbor only he can see, but Sophie doesn't mind, her attention drawn to his words than the blank expression on his face.

"She knew a lot of men… it was her job." Sophie jerks at the implication, her mind quickly working out the unsaid meaning.

"Your mother was a…"

"My mama was a Saint." Eliot cuts her off sharply, expression hard and eyes narrowed dangerously as he looks at Sophie before his eyes drop to the table top, to the marred and calloused knuckles.

"My Daddy left not long after my little brother was killed – car accident- leaving Mama with three mouths to feed and no income to speak of. For a while we travelled with shows –carnivals an' such- she playing a fortune teller and scamming money." He states, pausing for a moment, almost deciding if he should continue or not. Sophie waits once more, not wanting to hear the sad tale but knowing it's too late to turn back now.

"She tried, often hooked up with these men who only wanted her, could care less about us kids and after a while those men would take to beating the little ones and when Mamma would step in between she'd take the beatings. Happened a lot when I was a kid." He chuckles here for a moment, his expression sad and faraway.

"One night, one of those men took it too far and I stepped in. I was sixteen then and bulked up from working for a grain distributer. Took him out, all those years of watching men beat down on my Mama built up a rage and he was the one who took the brunt of it."

"I nearly killed him." Sophie holds back a gasp. It didn't take a _Grifter_ to figure out that Eliot had killed before, it was a common unspoken knowledge about the man's profession. But to hear the admission to come out so emotionlessly, so simply drew the woman up short.

"I left then, haven't seen my siblings or my Mama since then, don't even know where they are." He smiles sadly and for a moment Sophie can see the lost _boy_ lurking behind the icy eyes.

"Anyway, it's something I don't tolerate, the abuse of women or children. It's just something that gets under my skin ya know?" he states, glancing at the Grifter for the first time since the conversation started. Sadness, remorse and some regret flash through the clear blue of the Hitter's eyes and Sophie can only nod her head, unsure of how to respond. Eliot pats her hand with his good one and pushes the chair back, his intent clear as he quickly stands and heads for the front door. Sophie watches him walk, the steady and even tread of a man who has little fear, shoulders tensed and head high.

"I think your mother would be proud of you Eliot. Regardless of what you've done in the past." Sophie calls out and the man pauses at the door, his fingers on the knob. His head bows, long hair that came loose from his ponytail framing his face.

"If only that were true." He states softly and within seconds the door is closing behind him, leaving Sophie alone at the table, tears slipping silently down her face.

End.

* * *

Author Note: Umm… yup. Not a big fan of Sophie but figured she'd fit better than Tara. Can't wait to see Eliot play baseball this week and am slightly sad that the season only has 1 episode left. Now what am I gunna watch after work on Wednesday? Please review if you deem it worthy.


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